Max Headroom: What Theora Found Out
by ElegantButler
Summary: While working on a report with Edison and his team, Theora makes a heartbreaking discovery.
1. Chapter 1

Max Headroom: 20 Minutes Into the Future

What Theora Found Out

Chapter One:

"I know they're lying," Edison said as he looked into his vidicam. "Get Bryce on the link. See if he can find out what they don't want us to know."

Theora turned to her secondary screen and was unsurprised to see Bryce already on it. The teenager seemed to have a knack for knowing when Edison needed him.

"I take it you heard?"

Bryce winced but shook it off quickly. "Yeah, I heard. He wants me to find out what the Artisan Brotherhood is trying to hide."

"Are you okay?" Theora asked.

Bryce was already typing at his keyboard and didn't answer her question.

"Give me a break," he said a moment later. "Tell Edison they're a smuggling ring. Their primary deal is introducing old currency into the fringes by stuffing it into prepacked bread dough. They literally hide 'dough' inside of dough."

"So if they're asked by a lie detector what they're carrying and they said 'just dough' it's not caught as a lie because it's technically true." Theora concluded. "But why introduce money into the fringes at all?"

Bryce winced again, this time biting his lower lip.

"To lower the value of the currency, I suppose," he suggested once he had recovered

"Excuse me, Edison," Theora said. "Max, take over for me for a minute. I have to check on something."

Max appeared on the screen as Theora crossed the Control Room to the elevator.

A short time later, she arrived at Bryce's studio.

"Bryce, what's wrong?" she asked, gently.

Bryce was sitting on the edge of his bed, shaking as if he were trying to stop himself from crying. It was clear he was in a great deal of pain as he sat there, slumped forward, with his head in his hands.

"It's nothing you can help me with, Theora," he told her. "It's just something I have to put up with. I just…"

"You just what, Bryce?"

"I wish I could just let go. Be done with it. But I can't…" he shook his head, regretfully. "People need me too much. Cheviot. Edison. There's too much to do. I just can't…"

Theora sat beside Bryce, stroking his hair until it suddenly slipped off.

A wig?

Theora looked at Bryce, noticing the small but noticeable bald patches in his hair.

A horrible thought crossed her mind, and she prayed it wasn't true.

"Cancer?" she asked him, fearing the answer.

"Fourth stage," Bryce told her. "I've been going for chemo to keep myself going. Without it, I would've been dead a month ago. I want to die, Theora. The pain is awful."

Theora handed the wig back to Bryce, who replaced it on his head.

"Why would you make yourself suffer so much?"

"Because people need me," Bryce explained.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Theora could not sleep that night. She was heartbroken over Bryce's condition. The fact that he was allowing him to suffer so he could continue to help Edison and Cheviot was touching to her and her heart was close to shattering at the thought of him in such agony. It was almost as bad as when her brother Shawn had walked away from her.

"No, dammit," she told herself as she got ready for bed. "This is worse and you know it. When Shawn had left there was always the chance of him returning. The only way this can end will be in Bryce's death. He's as good as admitted that the chemo is only delaying the inevitable."

"But maybe there is something I can do for him."

She climbed into bed and ignored Max's humorous jibes at Zik Zak. They felt wrong and out of place against the terrible news she'd learned that day. Sitting up, she considered getting the team together the following night so Bryce could talk to them. She hoped he would be up for it. But honestly, she was worried that he would not.

"Where did you go yesterday?" Edison asked her. "I mean Max is an okay controller. But twice he tried to reroute me into a haberdasher."

"I was just just trying to impart a little fashion sense sense sense into you," Max pointed out.

"I'm really not in the mood," Theora remarked sitting down heavily at her control desk. She typed in the code for Bryce's view phone.

"Bryce," she said. "Are you feeling up to coming over to my place with Edison and Murray tonight?"

Edison was about to say something when she waved for silence.

"I'm extra tired today, Theora," Bryce told her blearily. "If this is about what I think it is, then why don't the three of you come to my studio instead?"

"If you're tired, you should rest tonight," Edison told him.

"I will rest better after tonight's discussion," Bryce told him.

"Maybe we should talk now?" Edison suggested.

"No," Bryce shook his head. "I don't want my problems to distract you from your work. We'll talk tonight."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

"What is this all about?" Murray demanded as he, Theora and Edison entered Bryce's studio.

Bryce was leaning on his desk, fingers clenched, as if readying himself for a painful talk. He stood there like that for several minutes, not speaking.

Murray was about ask again when Edison shook his head. Edison could tell something was troubling the teen genius, and he didn't want Murray to derail him before he got started.

FInally, Bryce turned to face them. Without saying a word, he reached up and removed the wig.

Theora could see that some of the bald patches were a little bigger.

"Another treatment?" She asked.

"Early this morning," Bryce told her. He looked at them all, his eyes full of fear and pain. "I… I want it to be the last."

Theora nodded. "It will be, Bryce." she told him.

"Now, wait a minute," Edison demanded. "What kind of treatment are we talking about?"

"Chemo," Bryce explained.

"You have cancer," Murray didn't asked. "How bad…"

"Stage four," Bryce told him. "I've been prolonging my life with chemo, but…"

He sat down and put his face in his hands.

This time it was Edison who was there to console him.

"I'll see if I can find…"

"No, Edison," Theora shook her head. "Bryce is suffering. You need to let him go."

"I can't just let him die, Theora!" Edison exclaimed. "I can't lose another friend."

"You're being selfish, Edison," Theora pointed out.

"Selfish?" Edison shouted at her.

"You're asking Bryce to suffer because of Paddy." Theora said.

"I'm not asking him to suffer! I want him to get better!"

"I've done all I can," Bryce said, quietly. "My body's too weak and too sick to handle the pain any longer, Edison. Please. Let me die."

"I can't. As long as there's hope for a cure. I just want you to hang on a little longer," Edison pleaded.

"Edison," Murray said, firmly. "Let him go."

"God damn all of you," Edison swore as he stormed out.

Bryce looked crestfallen as he whispered. "He already has."

"Edison's just upset," Theora told the young genius.

"I suppose I can't blame him," Murray said. He turned to Bryce. "Perhaps you should move in with one of us until it's time. I can't bear the thought of you dying alone."

Edison stormed into Dr. Duncan's office. The secretary tried to stop him, but he angrily waved her aside and barged into the examination room. "I want you to cure Bryce," he demanded angrily.

"Mr. Carter," Dr. Duncan said, looking up from his current patient, Lauren, "please wait out in the lobby until I am done with my current patient. And please refrain from …"

"No," Edison snarled. "There's no time for that. Bryce is…"

"Bryce Lynch is beyond my help," Dr. Duncan told him. "I've suggested he cease chemo. It's not doing anything for him other than prolonging…"

"Delaying," Edison said, "until a cure can be found."

"What cure?" Lauren asked. "What are you talking about?"

"It's private," Dr. Duncan told her. "Edison should never have…"

"Bryce has cancer," Edison cut him off. "And this quack is refusing to save him."

"Oh my god," Lauren said, her voice full of pain. She turned to Dr Duncan. "Can't you do anything?"

Dr. Duncan shook his head. "It's brain cancer," he explained. "And it's degenerative."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Three

"What is this all about?" Murray demanded as he, Theora and Edison entered Bryce's studio.

Bryce was leaning on his desk, fingers clenched, as if readying himself for a painful talk. He stood there like that for several minutes, not speaking.

Murray was about ask again when Edison shook his head. Edison could tell something was troubling the teen genius, and he didn't want Murray to derail him before he got started.

FInally, Bryce turned to face them. Without saying a word, he reached up and removed the wig.

Theora could see that some of the bald patches were a little bigger.

"Another treatment?" She asked.

"Early this morning," Bryce told her. He looked at them all, his eyes full of fear and pain. "I… I want it to be the last."

Theora nodded. "It will be, Bryce." she told him.

"Now, wait a minute," Edison demanded. "What kind of treatment are we talking about?"

"Chemo," Bryce explained.

"You have cancer," Murray didn't asked. "How bad…"

"Stage four," Bryce told him. "I've been prolonging my life with chemo, but…"

He sat down and put his face in his hands.

This time it was Edison who was there to console him.

"I'll see if I can find…"

"No, Edison," Theora shook her head. "Bryce is suffering. You need to let him go."

"I can't just let him die, Theora!" Edison exclaimed. "I can't lose another friend."

"You're being selfish, Edison," Theora pointed out.

"Selfish?" Edison shouted at her.

"You're asking Bryce to suffer because of Paddy." Theora said.

"I'm not asking him to suffer! I want him to get better!"

"I've done all I can," Bryce said, quietly. "My body's too weak and too sick to handle the pain any longer, Edison. Please. Let me die."

"I can't. As long as there's hope for a cure. I just want you to hang on a little longer," Edison pleaded.

"Edison," Murray said, firmly. "Let him go."

"God damn all of you," Edison swore as he stormed out.

Bryce looked crestfallen as he whispered. "He already has."

"Edison's just upset," Theora told the young genius.

"I suppose I can't blame him," Murray said. He turned to Bryce. "Perhaps you should move in with one of us until it's time. I can't bear the thought of you dying alone."

Edison stormed into Dr. Duncan's office. The secretary tried to stop him, but he angrily waved her aside and barged into the examination room. "I want you to cure Bryce," he demanded angrily.

"Mr. Carter," Dr. Duncan said, looking up from his current patient, Lauren, "please wait out in the lobby until I am done with my current patient. And please refrain from …"

"No," Edison snarled. "There's no time for that. Bryce is…"

"Bryce Lynch is beyond my help," Dr. Duncan told him. "I've suggested he cease chemo. It's not doing anything for him other than prolonging…"

"Delaying," Edison said, "until a cure can be found."

"What cure?" Lauren asked. "What are you talking about?"

"It's private," Dr. Duncan told her. "Edison should never have…"

"Bryce has cancer," Edison cut him off. "And this quack is refusing to save him."

"Oh my god," Lauren said, her voice full of pain. She turned to Dr Duncan. "Can't you do anything?"

Dr. Duncan shook his head. "It's brain cancer," he explained. "And it's degenerative."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Bryce followed Edison to his condo. Edison set down Bryce's small suitcase and was just entering his key-tube when his landlord Mr. Rivas came out to see them.

"Mr. Rivas, this is Bryce Lynch. He's one of my co-workers."

"It looks like he's moving in," Mr. Rivas said.

"Sadly, Bryce doesn't have much time left," Edison said, sadly.

Bryce shook his head in confirmation. "Edison's agreed to look after me for the last few weeks of my life."

Mr. Rivas nodded, glumly. "I'm sorry," he said. He turned to Edison, "Of course he's welcome to stay. My wife and I will help you look after him."

"Thank you, Mr Rivas," Edison said as he opened the door and led Bryce inside.

"There-there-there you are," Max said from the screen. "I've been looking for you Bry-Bry-Bryce. What are you doing here? Moving in-in-in? I didn't think you were Edison's type-type-type."

"Type of what?" Bryce asked.

"Never mind," Edison told him. He turned to the TV "And I find that remark inappropriate, Max."

"How long are you staying here?" Max asked.

"Until I die," Bryce told him.

"So, this is long-term," Max remarked, giving Edison a stern look.

"Don't get all worked up, Max," Bryce told him. "It's only going to be a few weeks."

"Which is it?" Max asked, confused. "Until you die or a few week-week-weeks"

"Both," Bryce explained.

"No! It has to be one or the other! You're sixteen, Bryce! You're not going to be dead for another eighty years! Years!"

"Someone forgot to tell that to the cancer that's eating away at my brain," Bryce told Max. "I don't even have eighty days, let alone years."

"Edison!" Max cried out.

Edison could tell his computer-generated counterpart was distressed and knew why. Bryce was like a mother to Max and Edison remembered how hard it was when he lost his mother during the war.

"Please tell me it's not-not-not true…" Max whined.

"I'm sorry, Max," Edison said. "I wish I could. But I'm afraid it is."

Max gave a huff, then went on air.

"This is Max-Max-Max Headroom," he told his audience of millions, "And today sucks!"

At that, he vanished, presumably to work out his feelings on the matter.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Lauren turned to Cheviot. "Sounds like Max just found out about Bryce," she said, low enough so only he could hear.

Cheviot nodded.

"Why is Max Headroom so upset?" Ashwell asked. "He's usually the most chipper guy here."

"It does seem unusual," Edwards agreed.

Cheviot cleared his throat. "What I am about to tell you is very serious. It's also private. I wouldn't even be mentioning it if it weren't such grave news."

Everyone turned to face him.

"I was recently informed that one of this network's employees has just found out that he has cancer."

"Who?" Several voices asked, urgently. It didn't really matter who it was, in their minds. Everyone at the network got along pretty well with everyone else. Like a big family.

That is, it didn't matter until Cheviot said "Bryce Lynch."

Then the members of the Board of Network 23 were talking in hushed voices.

They could not believe that the network's youngest employee was going to die before any of them. It seemed so wrong to each of them.

"Is there nothing we can do," Ashwell asked. "We're the world's top network. We have pull with all the major establishments. Doctors. Scientists."

"It's already at stage four, Ashwell," Cheviot explained. "It's beyond curing at this stage. At this stage all that can be done is to look after him and keep him comfortable. Carter's agreed to take a leave of absence to look after him. Janie Crane will be filling in, so there will still be a show until he gets back."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Edison stood by the bathroom door as Bryce vomited into the toilet. He didn't say anything. He couldn't think of anything appropriate to say. He knew full well that Bryce was not alright.

Bryce reached for a towel, and paused.

"Edison!" he cried out. "Edison!"

"Right here, kid," Edison said, entering the small room and taking the towel from the rack.

"I can't see you!" Bryce sounded panicked. Even though he knew this was coming, he had not expected it to be so terrifying. "I can't see anything!"

"Bryce, I'm right next to you," Edison told him. "If you're done in here, I'll lead you back to the bed and you can rest until dinner."

"I don't want any dinner," Bryce snapped. "You'll probably try to trick me into eating something awful."

"How am I supposed to do that?" Edison asked, trying to diffuse the situation with a little humor. "You already know you're going to be eating my cooking."

"You'll probably sneak me some of Murray's cooking," Bryce shot back. When he thought about what he'd said, he began laughing. But it was not to last.

He was sobbing a moment later.

"I can't eat anymore," he said. "How will I see the food? How will I keep it from falling off my fork if I can't even see the damned fork?"

"You could eat sandwiches," Edison suggested as he lead Bryce to the bed. "Or crunch fries. You can eat those with your hands. And there's always pizza."

Bryce sniffed back his tears and smiled a little as he felt the edge of the bed and sat down. "Yeah. I guess there are lots of different types of pizza. I suppose that's okay."

"I'll let you know when it gets here tonight," Edison said. "Plain cheese okay?"

"Yeah," Bryce agreed. He curled up on his side, not quite in the right direction.

Edison moved the pillow under Bryce's head and fixed the blanket so it covered him.

"Get some sleep," he suggested.

Some hours later, Bryce was awakened by the sound of Edison's voice coming from the TV.

"Edison!" he cried out, fearing that the reporter had gone back to work and left him. Something told him that wasn't it. That there was another explanation. But he couldn't think of what it was.

"I'm right here, Bryce," Edison told him from his seat on the end of the bed.

"I thought you were on TV," Bryce explained.

"That's just Max," Edison explained.

Bryce's face became a mask of confusion.

"Who?"


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

Edison stared in shock at Bryce.

How could he have forgotten about Max? Max was Bryce's own creation. It was as if he'd forgotten his own son. Was this a side-effect of the cancer? Edison guessed it must be. He'd hardly had time to study the ailment.

"Bryce?" Max asked. He looked at Edison. "Doesn't he remember me, Edison?"

"No, Max," Edison said.

"But-but-but, why not?" Max wailed.

"It's the cancer, Max," Edison explained. "It's affecting his memory."

"Can we do anything to change it-it-it?" Max pleaded. "Isn't there a cure? A treatment?"

"He was in treatment for a while," Edison said, looking at Bryce who sat there, staring at nothing.

"Treatment for what?" Bryce asked. "Who are you? Why can't I see anything? Has there been a blackout?"

"No, Bryce," Edison said, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder. "I'm not going to lie to you or sugar-coat things. You deserve better than that."

"What's wrong with me?" Bryce asked.

"You were blinded by cancer. It's one of the symptoms. You were in chemo for a while, but it didn't do any good, so you decided to stop the treatments."

"Does that mean I'm going to die?" Bryce asked, alarmed.

"Yes, Bryce, Edison told him. "Probably very soon."

"Is that what I wanted before I started forgetting things?" Bryce asked.

Edison wanted to say "No". He wanted to tell Bryce that he wanted to fight with all he had to save himself. But he knew if he did that, he would be as selfish as Theora had accused him of being.

"Yes," he said. "You tried to hold on for as long as you could, but in the end it was proving too much for your fragile body."

"You still haven't told me who you are?"

"Edison Carter," Edison said, "your best friend and former coworker."

"I had a job?" Bryce asked. "I seem to be rather young."

"You had one hell of a brain before the cancer started eating away at it," Edison said. "You were head of research and development at Network 23."

Bryce felt around for something to hold onto, finally grasping the edge of the blanket.

"I wish I were still smart," he said.

"You are," Edison told him.

"No," Bryce growled. "I'm stupid. I hate being stupid."

"You're not stupid," Edison argued. "Stupid people have working brains and are too dumb to take advantage of them."

"I can't remember anything," Bryce said. "That sounds like stupidity to me.

"No," Edison told him. "It's called cancer-related amnesia."

There was a knock on the door. Edison checked and saw it was Theora.

He let her in and she sat on the loveseat near the TV.

"How are you, Bryce?" she asked.

"Fine," Bryce replied. "Who are you?"

"Amnesia?" Theora asked.

"Yes," Edison said, overriding Bryce's claim that he was just stupid.

"You are not," Theora told him. "Lots of really smart people lose their memories when they get brain cancer. It's like having a recording in a lock box but you lost the key."

Bryce grabbed his head and sat down heavily. He began to rock back and forth, emitting little droning noises until he curled up into a ball and began half screaming.

Theora and Edison sat on either side of him. Theora rubbed his shoulders, but did not try to restrain him. She just wanted him to know she was there.

Bryce began clawing at his head, as if he were trying to rip out the cancer with his bare hands.

"Get it out!" he screamed. "Oh, God! Get it out of me! GET IT OUT OF ME!"

"Bryce!" Edison shouted, trying to get through to the teenager. "Bryce, I know it hurts." He turned to Theora. "Call the med center. Tell them to get their asses over here now. I'm not going to watch Bryce suffer like this any longer."

Theora made the call, then turned to see Edison cradling Bryce against himself, holding his wrists.

"Edison…" she began.

"I know," Edison told her. "But I had no choice. He was trying to rip his eyes out."

"To get to the cancer," Theora realized. "My god. Is the pain really that bad?"

"I think it's worse," Edison said, as Bryce began screaming again.


	9. Chapter 9

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p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Not unless you want to break the law," Edison replied. "Assisted suicide was outlawed five years ago."/span/p  
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p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""So Bryce just lies there suffering." Murray said./span/p  
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p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""What about having him placed in a medically induced coma?" Theora suggested. /span/p  
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p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Murray and Edison stared at her./span/p  
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p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""There's no guarantee he wouldn't still be in pain," Edison told her. "We still know very little about comas."/span/p  
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p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Theora nodded, solemnly. /span/p  
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p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Bryce, in the meantime, had stopped screaming. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"strong style="font-weight: normal;" /strong/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Breughal," he said, simply./span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"strong style="font-weight: normal;" /strong/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""I'm not calling that animal to take care of your death," Edison said, vehemently./span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"strong style="font-weight: normal;" /strong/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""He's already got blood on his hands," Bryce told them. "And I'm sure he'd be gentle about it if you paid him to be."/span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"strong style="font-weight: normal;" /strong/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""For him that would be strangling you instead of beating you to death with a crowbar." Edison remarked, pointedly./span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"strong style="font-weight: normal;" /strong/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""It's getting late," Murray told them. "Let's sleep on it tonight. We'll decide in the morning."/span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"strong style="font-weight: normal;" /strong/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Bryce nodded in agreement and curled up on Edison's bed. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"br /br /p 


	10. Chapter 10

p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Chapter 10/span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"strong id="docs-internal-guid-c861581a-2baa-8692-4ec0-7c38cc7d4319" style="font-weight: normal;" /strong/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"When morning came, Edison woke Bryce. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"strong style="font-weight: normal;" /strong/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"The teenager sat up and Edison went to his side./span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"strong style="font-weight: normal;" /strong/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""I'll lead you to the bathroom. Once you're inside the toilet is on the left, shower on the right and sink is in the middle." Edison wanted to preserve as much of Bryce's privacy as he could. "The seat is probably up." /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"strong style="font-weight: normal;" /strong/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Thanks, Edison," Bryce said, letting Edison guide him to the loo and finding his way inside./span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"strong style="font-weight: normal;" /strong/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Once he was finished relieving himself, Bryce decided to take a shower rather than wait until evening when he usually took them. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"strong style="font-weight: normal;" /strong/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Is it okay if I take a shower?" he called to Edison./span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"strong style="font-weight: normal;" /strong/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Sure," Edison said. "I'll have Max program it for you."/span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"strong style="font-weight: normal;" /strong/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"The shower was running a couple minutes later, and Bryce stepped in. He enjoyed the comfortable temperature against his skin and for a short while, he was able to forget the pain that had been plaguing him for the past two months./span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"strong style="font-weight: normal;" /strong/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Then suddenly, his legs gave out and he fell to the floor in a heap. He tried to get up, but could not move his legs. Neither of them would obey his mind's commands. He went to scream, but his mouth would no longer work properly and all he could manage was an incoherent babble. Embarrassed, he fell silent. This could not be happening to him. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"strong style="font-weight: normal;" /strong/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"After a few more minutes the shower turned off./span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"strong style="font-weight: normal;" /strong/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Edison could hear it stop. "Do you need any help?" he called into the bathroom./span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"strong style="font-weight: normal;" /strong/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"No answer came. Edison didn't wait before opening the door and seeing Bryce on the floor, whimpering incoherently./span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"strong style="font-weight: normal;" /strong/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Bryce!" he exclaimed as he rushed over, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around Bryce. "What happened? Can you stand up?"/span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"strong style="font-weight: normal;" /strong/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Bryce glared angrily at him. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"strong style="font-weight: normal;" /strong/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""No," Edison guessed correctly. "Okay, I'll carry you back over to the bed. Are you finished in here?"/span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"strong style="font-weight: normal;" /strong/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Bryce nodded and let Edison pick him up and carry him into the bedroom./span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"strong style="font-weight: normal;" /strong/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Can you move anything at all?" Edison asked./span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Bryce feebly waggled his right hand./span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"strong style="font-weight: normal;" /strong/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""You can't speak?" Edison asked, concernedly./span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"strong style="font-weight: normal;" /strong/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Bryce made a pathetic attempt, but again it came out garbled. Horrified at the useless thing he'd become, he bowed his head and wept./span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"strong style="font-weight: normal;" /strong/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Edison drew him into a hug./span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"strong style="font-weight: normal;" /strong/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""It'll be over soon," he said sadly./span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"br /br /br /p 


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Once Edison had carried Bryce over to the bed and had made sure he was as comfortable as possible, he called Network 23.

Murray answered the vu-phone on his desk. "Edison," he said.

Before Murray could ask anything, Edison spoke. "Bryce is deteriorating rapidly, Murray. He can't see, he's paralyzed and when he tries to speak, it sounds like he had a stroke."

"Theora and I will be over as soon as we can be," Murray said. "Janie's in the field right now, and she's covering a rather dangerous assignment."

"It's not right," Edison said. "Bryce shouldn't have to go through this… humiliation."

"Edison…" Murray began.

"You haven't seen the shame in his eyes," Edison remarked, tears threatening to fall. "There's part of him that remembers what he once was. And it's heartbreaking to see how that part of him reacts to what he's become."

"I can't pretend to personally understand," Murray admitted. "I don't think any well person can ever understand something like that."

Edison nodded. "Come as soon as you can."

Edison disconnected and Murray returned to Theora's control desk.

"How's Janie?" he asked, morosely, his mind on Bryce's condition more than what was going on at work.

"What's wrong?" Theora asked. Then a terrible thought hit her. "Has Bryce…?"

"Not yet," Murray told her.

"Theora!" Janie cried out. "We've got a situation down here. We've got about fiftty men who just arrived in yellow and green flack jackets."

"ZLin troops," Murray told them. "My guess is they're itching for a fight with Zik Zak."

"Anyone remember when corporate competition didn't involve guns?" Theora wondered aloud.

"That was almost two decades ago," Murray pointed out. "Let's get this wrapped up so we go and see Bryce."

Theora nodded. "Janie, are you in a safe location?"

"I think so," Janie said through her vidicam link. "I can see them, but I don't think they can see me. Uh oh…. I think I spoke too soon."

Another voice could be heard over the link.

"Put the camera down, woman," it said. It was a man's voice with a slight accent.

Murray and Theora exchanged looks.

"Zlin soldier," Murray said. "Dammit. I'll call Edison and let him know we can't make it."

"I wanted to see Bryce," Theora agonized. "If he dies and we're not there."

"Theora," Murray explained, "we know Bryce is definitely going to die. But if we stay here, we could save Janie."

Theora took a long calming breath before saying "You're right, Murray," in a regretfully but determined tone.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

"What are you doing here, woman?" the man holding Janie demanded. "Well?"

"I was just going to report on the fashion show," Janie explained, hoping the man would be sexist enough to buy it.

"Fashion show? I didn't know Network 23 did fashion shows," the man wasn't buying it. "You don't look like a fashion reporter anyway. They usually wear too much makeup. You don't wear enough. You look like a tomboy."

Janie was led to a caravan of military trucks. Some had open beds, others were covered.

"Get in," the man ordered, waving his gun in her direction.

Janie knew this wasn't a situation she could get out of. She climbed into the truck bed, hoping she could find a way out later.

"Where are we going?" she asked, her reporter instincts taking over.

"Shut up," the man told her, "or you'll go the way of your little friend."

Janie's eyes widened. Then narrowed. "What do you know about Bryce?"

"We know a lot about him," the man told her with a sneer in his voice. "Little genius got too good a brain for his own good. Couldn't risk him figuring out the connection."

"Shut up, Ralph," the driver said. "We still got enough bioweapon left for her and you if you don't."

"Bioweapon…" Janie said, in horror, "Bryce didn't just develop cancer… you bastards gave it to him!"

"Pity your friends will never find out," Ralph told her. "Now shut up, or you'll develop a case yourself."

Janie glared by sat silently waiting. She would tell Edison what she knew as soon as she could. When he found out that they had been responsible for Bryce's cancer, he would not stop until all of them were either in jail or dead.

Edison sat on the edge of the bed looking down at Bryce.

Bryce's breathing was very shallow now. Edison wished the others could be there with him. But Janie was in trouble, and she needed Murray and Theora standing by waiting for way they could save her.

Edison pushed a few stray hairs from Bryce's forehead, noting how cold his skin felt. He knew Bryce would be gone in a few moments. It broke his heart even more than Paddy's death. Paddy Ashton had at least been in his late twenties. Young, but nowhere near as young as Bryce.

Edison listened to Bryce's breathing grow steadily shallower until it no longer came.

"Bryce," he said, in gloomy voice. "I don't understand why this happened. I don't think anyone ever will."

Several miles away, a young woman who did understand why sat in the back of a military truck on her way to an uncertain fate.

… to be continued.


End file.
